The Hidden Adventures: The Unlikely Criminal
by Someday Sara
Summary: Scotland Yard is in an uproar-it appears as if Sherlock Holmes is behind the Bank of England murders!Despite overwhelming evidence against him, Ana and Watson are sure of his innocence.Only one problem: no one knows where Holmes is!Can the two most unlike
1. Chapter One

*Author's Note: This is the sequel to "The Hidden Adventures: Ana's Story" and while not neccesary, you probably want to read that first!  
  
  
  
I am by no means a late riser, but this was quite out of the ordinary. My wife had shaken me awake and with a hurried explanation that Ana was here to see me, bade me dress.   
  
I stumbled down into the parlor where Ana was sitting, her head in her hands, shaking as though crying.  
  
"Ana!" I cried, "What's the matter? Where's Holmes?"  
  
"That's just it!" Ana raised her head. She was not crying, after all, but pale and agitated. Her hair had been pinned up hurriedly, and her dress was wrinkled and unclean. She was wearing one brown boot, one black, and neither were laced, and her hands were bare.  
  
"He didn't come home last night. He was working on some case, so I wasn't too worried. He'd been out all night before. But, but, oh Watson!" Ana was overtaken by a violent shivering fit, and it was only by pouring her a glass of water that I was able to calm her.  
  
Her hands were still shaking as she handed me the morning paper." This isn't in the stands yet," she said, "But one of the irregulars saw it as it was being delivered. Wiggins brought it by this morning and I came right to you!"  
  
The paper had been folder over so that one of the front-page articles caught my attention immediately.  
  
  
"SHERLOCK HOLMES ARRESTED FOR BANK OF ENGLAND MURDER - Suspect managed to evade police, mystery!"  
  
  
I gasped and turned to Ana. She twisted her hands together and said, "Read... read!"  
  
I turned my attention back to the paper.  
  
  
"Last night Mr. Sherlock Holmes, of 221B Baker Street, was apprehended by an unknown civilian. It appears that Mr. Holmes broke into the Bank of England and rifled a safe, emptying it. When stopped by a night guardsman, Holmes stabbed the guard to death and left him lying just outside the safe. A witness on the street raised the alarm and apprehended Holmes single-handed, beating him to semi-consciousness with a walking stick and binding his hands. When the police arrived, Holmes was escorted into a carriage. Yet when the carriage arrived at the jail, it was empty of both guards and Holmes! This mystery has left Scotland Yard in the dark. "We're doing everything we can," said Inspector Lestrade, of the Yard. "I can't believe it was Holmes, though..." he was heard to say under his breath. "  
  
  
I stopped reading. I had seen enough. I turned in shock to Ana.  
  
"It wasn't him," she snarled. "I know it wasn't! We have to find him!"  
  
"B-but he could be anywhere!" I stammered. "He could be hiding, for all we know, scared of the police!"  
  
"He's not hiding! He's been kidnapped, I know!" Ana stood and slammed a fist into her palm.  
  
"Ana, really dear, you must calm down!"  
  
"No! I won't!" she yelled. "I'm leaving to find him NOW, and you can come with me or not. I'm leaving."  
  
Ana turned and wrenched the door open. I ran after her, and shut the door behind me. I was surprised to see Inspector Lestrade standing there, with cab and two policemen.  
  
"I'm afraid I'll have to take Miss Holmes in for questioning," he said.   
  
I began a stuttering protest, but Ana interrupted. "No, Watson, it's all right." With all the dignity she could muster in her stained and wrinkled dress, she climbed inside the cab. Lestrade followed her, tipped his hat to me, and closed the door.  
  
I watched in astonishment as the cab rolled away, still clutching the horrifying newspaper.  



	2. Chapter Two

The very least I could do was to wait outside the police station for Ana. She stomped out of the building and barely glanced at me.   
  
"Cabby!" Ana shouted.  
  
"Are you all right?" I asked, concerned.  
  
"Yes, yes, I'm fine. 221B Baker Street." Ana called as she climbed inside, and I followed. When the cab reached my old lodgings, I paid the driver and hurried after Ana.   
  
She had shut herself in her room, my old one, and then emerged in a clean blue dress. Sitting in front of Holmes' make up mirror, she pulled her hair back into an elegant knot and pinned her hat on.  
  
"Are you ready to go?" Ana asked, shuffling through the mess in front of the mirror. She pulled out a pair of white gloves, and a sealed letter.  
  
"Oh!" she exclaimed. "I forgot! Holmes asked me to give this to you... last... night... before he... left..." Ana seemed lost in thought, staring at the envelope. Then she shook her head and handed it to me.  
  
It was a simple envelope, white but smudged at the edges. Holmes had sealed it shut using a dripping candle and pressing his thumb into the wax. I slipped my finger under the seal, keeping it whole, and opened the envelope.   
  
  
  
Watson - (the letter said)  
  
Dearest Ana never gets energy rushes. If we imagine little ladies buy everything the apartment kitchens endure now two halves. Every watch and tower engine route find real obstacles. Now teas share happiness every day.   
  
Look at the first!  
  
-Holmes  
  
  
  
I read the letter several times, and then out loud to Ana.  
  
"What?" she said, and came to read the letter herself. We both stood and puzzled over it for a moment.   
  
"Well, I can't make any sense of it." I said, confused.  
  
"Nor can I." Ana sighed. "Well, are you ready to go?"  
  
"Go?"  
  
"To the bank of England, of course!" Ana said. After a moment's hesitation, she slipped Holmes' magnifying glass in her pocket.  
  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~   
  
  
As I anticipated, we were stopped outside the doors of the bank.  
  
"I'm sorry sir, miss. No one but police allowed inside." The guard at the door told us.  
  
Ana drew herself up. "Excuse me, officer? Do you know who this man is?"  
  
"No..." the guard looked uncomfortable.  
  
"This is Inspector Richardson, head of the department of investigations at Scotland Yard!" Ana shot him her most vicious sneer. "And I am his secretary."  
  
"Very - very well sir." The guard stuttered and moved aside to let us in.  
  
I wished that Ana hadn't come. When we entered, the first thing we saw was the murdered guard sprawled face down on the floor, blood splashed over the white marble. The bloody knife lay next to him and several detectives swarmed around the evidence.   
  
Ana seemed unruffled, however, and carefully glanced around the crime scene. She walked toward the safe door and I followed. Taking Holmes magnifying glass she looked over every inch.   
  
"Well, I don't see a damn thing. Here." She handed the glass to me. I, too, examined the door but had as much luck as Ana. Surely even Holmes would admit there was nothing there...  
  
Next Ana slowly and carefully walked from the safe to the body, counting how many steps it took. Then she bent down next to the dead man.   
  
"What's this?" she asked, running a finger along the floor. Her white glove became black with some unknown powder.   
  
"And there's more!" she muttered, scooping a small handful up. She peered at it anxiously. "Watson, do you have an envelope to put this in?"  
  
I felt my pockets. "Well, no... but - " I drew out Holmes' gibberish letter.   
  
"That'll do. Just take the letter out."  
  
I did as Ana asked, not noticing as Holmes' wax seal fell to the floor. Ana tipped her hand into the envelope and the black powder fell in.   
  
She stood and brushed her hands together. "Well, I think that's about it..." With one last glance around the bank, we headed for the door.  
  
Lestrade passed us on the way out.  
  
"Good morning, Lestrade," we both said nonchalantly.   



	3. Chapter Three

As we walked outside, Ana fell flat on her face.  
  
While she made it a habit to trip over the rug at Baker Street, Ana was usually quick on her feet. Her fall surprised us both.  
  
"Well," she said, brushing herself off. "Isn't it funny how this cobble stone is a little higher than the rest? Come, Watson."  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
Back at 221B Baker Street, Ana was almost as methodical about the clues as Holmes was. First she took the black powder and examined it closely under the magnifying glass, then under the microscope.  
  
She talked to me while she did. "It appears to be... well... black powder. It's in little flakes and very fragile."  
  
She hesitantly sniffed the powder. "Oh, it smells something awful."  
  
Struck with sudden inspiration, Ana pinched some of the black flakes and rubbed them on the back of her hand.  
  
Almost immediately, a red rash appeared.  
  
"Aha!" Ana cried. "I know what it is! It's dirt and dust from the sewers! Always did make me itch..." she said as she scratched violently at her hand. "And now I think I know what happened. Someone came from the sewers and..."  
  
Ana's face fell. "Murdered the guard and pulled Sherlock from the carriage? No, that doesn't make sense. But someone came from the sewers, for sure. Doesn't Holmes have a map around here somewhere?"  
  
We both scrambled frantically around in the piles of paper. "Here!" I cried, "Isn't this it?"  
  
Ana hurried over and snatched the map from my hands. "Yes! Yes it is! And look - the sewers run right in front of the bank. But how could someone have gotten out from the sewers?"  
  
Ana walked towards the fireplace with the map...  
  
...and tripped over the rug.  
  
We were both struck with the same idea at once.  
  
"The loose cobblestone!" Ana cried. She pinned the map on the back wall above the fireplace and grabbed a pencil.  
  
"So they ended up here," she muttered, marking the map, "But where did they start from?"  
  
"We have no way of knowing, do we?" I asked.  
  
"Yes we do..." Ana sounded sad. "This all looks very bad for Holmes, doesn't it? Who would want not only to kill, but also tarnish his reputation?"  
  
"Moriarty?"  
  
"No. Inspector Lestrade."   
  
"What?"  
  
"Of course it's Moriarty!" Ana sounded exasperated.  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Now think, Watson. Really think." Once again, Ana sounded terribly sad. "When you first met me, Holmes and I made an "appointment" with Moriarty. Do you remember where?"  
  
"No.. but..." I fished for my case records. "Here it is! 137 Ashwood Road."  
  
Ana marked the house on the map and then began to trace the sewer pipes between the two buildings.  
  
"That's odd. And discouraging. There are no pipes that lead right to Ashwood Road. The closest is three streets down. But that's close enough..."  
  
Outside, a storm was brewing, and the room was dark as Ana turned to face me. "I don't know what we're going to do, Watson."  
  
"Ana," I said softly. "You must be reasonable. You know what Holmes is like. In all probability he'll show up tonight with some dashing explanation. My advice is that you stay here. If it makes you feel better, I'll spend the night with you."  
  
Ana nodded. "I would like that," she said, and slid into an armchair.  
  
I went to send a telegram to my wife and left Ana staring mournfully out the window.  
  
  



	4. Chapter Four

When I returned Ana was still staring out the window. She remained quiet all through the evening, even as I convinced her to eat some dinner.   
  
Night fell slowly and Ana sighed. "Goodnight, Watson," she said. Lightening forked across the sky as she retired to her room.   
  
I couldn't sleep for worry, and so I sat up reading in front of the fire. I must have dozed off, though, because the next I remember I heard footsteps on the stairs.   
  
I jumped, assuming it was Sherlock, then listened.   
  
Squelch... Squelch... Squelch...   
  
The footsteps were wet and spongy, and it sounded as though some creature of the deep was approaching. My childhood fear of monsters rose within me, and I grabbed the fire poker with a loud grating noise. The footsteps outside the door stopped.   
  
"For heaven's sake, Watson, put the poker down," Ana said, and opened the door.   
  
I stared, amazed. Ana was soaked to the bone, her old thief's clothing plastered to her shivering body. Her hair was slicked straight to her face and neck, and she dripped without stopping, creating a small puddle on the floor.   
  
She coughed and spat on the floor. "Don't just stand there, get me a towel."   
  
I rushed to obey. Ana shook like a dog and then accepted the warm linen. She rubbed her face and hair dry, then wrapped the towel around her and squelched to her room.   
  
In a few moments she emerged in dry clothing, wrapped in yet another towel. Her feet were bare, so this time she squeaked instead of squelched.   
  
She shambled to the fireplace and then accepted the cup of tea I offered. Cross-legged in front of the fire, Ana sighed.   
  
Now I was angry. "Where have you BEEN, young lady?"   
  
"I'm not a lady," Ana said as she blew across the top of the tea, then took a sip. "And I was looking for Holmes."   
  
"Where? In the ocean?"   
  
"The river. Although, I didn't expect to end up there..." Ana took another sip and commenced her tale.   
  
"From the dust I knew that the sewers were somehow connected. Once you were asleep, (and I could tell by your snoring, Watson) I snuck out and walked back to the bank. I found the loose cobblestone from before. Underneath was a ladder, which I climbed down. It was dark, but I knew my way around. I started to walk towards Ashwood Road. I passed underneath Baker Street, once. I could tell because making my way along I encountered a certain yellow stone." Ana grinned. "I accidentally kicked it into the water, before I realized what it was. Oh, well. I continued to follow the route that I had marked on Holmes' map when I saw a light up ahead and heard voices. Then sewers branched off to the right in a place that wasn't marked."   
  
Ana stood and pointed to a location on the map. "Right there," she said. "I followed the voices very carefully. At the end of this unmarked tunnel was another ladder. I watched two men climb up this ladder, then followed."   
  
I gasped. "Weren't you caught?"   
  
"I'm never caught," Ana said grimly. "I emerged in the back of a huge shed at the waterfront. The two men went through a door, and I crept behind them and listened at the keyhole. Someone was laughing. 'A conviction for sure, good work,' one of the men said, 'Good night, then.' Before I had time to move they opened the door and I spilled on to their feet. I was up and out the front door like the wind, but one man was just as quick. He chased me all the way out on to the bridge. I knew I couldn't out run him, so... I jumped. Headfirst. A spectacular dive if I do say so, myself." Ana stopped and whistled, and the far away look on her face told me she was reliving her fall. "Must've been forty feet."   
  
I gasped again, but Ana continued, unruffled. "I swam underwater as far as I could, and then crawled out and found my way back here, soaking wet and none the wiser about Holmes."   
  
Ana finished the tea and then stood, exhausted. The early morning light shimmered through the window as she said spoke. "Goodnight, Watson."   
  
"But it's morning," I protested as I watched her stumble to her room


End file.
